


B: Blind

by brokxnharry



Series: Teen Wolf A-Z Challenge (with songs) [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blind Stiles, F/M, M/M, Temporary Blindness, Worried Derek, mentions of magic, sterek fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: Stiles lost his eyesight in a fight with a witch. He can't see anything and Derek can't see him like that.





	B: Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Song for the chapter: Better than me - David Cook

Stiles could feel himself spiraling, trembling with rage's brushes everywhere that was meant to be reasonable and smart and collected. Could feel the helplessness setting in, where he could once kick and hit and fight and **_do_** something. Could feel his self-worth plummeting, along with everything that had ever mattered to him.

He groaned, or yelled, or screamed. He didn't really know, but he was throwing his hands away from him, hoping they'd catch something, hold onto someone, do anything other than lay helplessly by his side. He hit against something and it fell to its crash and for a minute there, it felt good, to hear the sound of something breaking other than his own heart.

So he did it again, feeling all the shattered pieces fueling whatever that was inside me, demanding more. More destruction. More cracks. More pieces of things that were once whole. More tears at things that weren't just him.

But then his hand hit against something hard, something that was tougher than his own bones, and this time, the cracking was a lot closer, it could have been inside him. And it was. He had broken his wrist. Or at least, one of his fingers. He didn't know, but it hurt like hell, and he suddenly wanted to cry.

" Good for nothing son of a bitch, you can't do anything right, you can't even get angry properly. Dammit, **_fuck_**."

He felt around until he was almost certain he was close to his bed, he sat down and hoped he wouldn't end up on the ground. He swore he wouldn't even have it in him to try to stand again.

" Stiles? Are you okay? Can I come in?" It was Lydia's voice, coming through the door to his room that he'd previously slammed shut. He expected her voice to ease his temper, to calm his reeling thoughts, but he started thinking of her, out there, screaming her lungs out for a body or two, and him being in his room, restrained by his lack of abilities, his utter uselessness. He almost hated himself a little more then.

" I don't want to talk about it, Lydia. Tell them all to go home. Just do whatever you want, I don't give a fuck anymore." Lydia sighed, but then, there was the sound of a knob turning, and his door creaking open, and he **_hated_** how his dad had taken his lock away when he found out about werewolves coming through his window and spending the night, or several nights.

" What did you do?" She sounded somewhere between irritated and concerned. He felt her coming closer, stepping on the wreckage he'd poured onto his room.

" Nothing. It's nothing. Go home, Lydia." He pushed himself back, until he felt his body hitting against the wall. He heard her feet, stopping somewhere in the middle of his room.

" You know they're only trying to keep you safe, Stiles. They're doing this for your own good." And just like that, something else snapped inside him, that wasn't his bones, but hurt a lot worse.

" Oh you know what, Lydia? Fuck that and fuck him. **_I'm_** the one who lost his eyesight. I'm the one who had to stay in the hospital with a freaked out dad and friends that are still out there in the fight. Who the **_fuck_** does he think he is to make decisions for me? To tell me what I can, or can’t do? Who gave him the fucking right?"

He moved his hand without really meaning to, and it sent a jolt through him, causing him to groan, turning away from Lydia like him, being in pain, would defeat the whole purpose of that conversation. But before he could breathe through it, before he could nurse his own wounds, he felt a chest against his back, arms wrapping around him, before the pain started to dissolve away.

He didn't mean to melt into that chest, but his body crashed, needing the comfort, the sense of stability when everything else seemed to be tilted, crooked somehow. He heard a sigh against his shoulders, felt the air between his bones, like it was trying to ease the tension there, to take something more than just the pain away.

He knew from the heartbeat that it was Derek. From the way his own heart began to slow, to match its pace. But he was still so livid at him, at how little he made him feel. And how he let the rest of them, poke at every single weakness he had, every insecurity, every whispered fear Stiles had shared, when he was drunk on lack of sleep, and reassurance that Derek would still be there, no matter what he said.

Derek took all that and threw it right back at him, like he'd been waiting for a low moment, to just tell Stiles that he was right, that he had always been right. That he was of no use to any of them, a liability more than anything, that they would all be better off, without-

" I'm not taking any of it back. I still stand by what I said."

" Don't push me, Derek." Stiles pulled away from him, wishing he hadn't said anything, wishing he'd allowed him to forget this had ever happened. He closed his eyes, although, there was nothing for him to see anyway. He remembered watching his mother slipping into a coma, the second time she was in the hospital. He remembered thinking that black was her least favorite color, and now, it was probably all she was seeing. He'd wondered if she could poke her finger through it and draw something that looked like Stiles. He'd wondered if there was a shadow of him, somewhere in there, that ran around and laughed and held onto her hand to not get lost in the great darkness.

He had answers to all that now. He wished he could tell her, that he didn't like black much either, because he couldn't see his friends anywhere. He couldn't envision his father or how he looked when he was trying not to cry as he held onto Stiles and told him that everything would be okay. He couldn't draw Derek into the blackness and will him to listen, to understand. He couldn't paint Scott's support, or how panicked he sounded, despite trying to seem reasonable. Scott had never been reasonable, that was why Stiles loved him. He just felt what he felt and he ran with it.

" I'm going to tell Scott to call Melissa, to come over after her shift." Lydia said, her voice distant, but still present.

" Take him with you, Lydia. Also, if you can grab me something to get rid of this mess, I don't want dad to have to clean it up."

" I'll do it later. It's okay. Just rest up."

" I can do it myself."

" Stiles,"

" Lydia, dammit. I can do it. Please, just- get me a bag and something to sweep with."

He leaned down, till he was touching the ground, getting on his knees to maintain his stability, as he felt around for broken pieces, hoping he wouldn't find any of his own. Wishing he didn't feel so raw, so cracked open and exposed, like the pieces of him were slowly falling away, losing grasp, as he lost hold on them.

" I can help." He tried not to flinch when he heard Derek's voice again. Tried not to cover his ears with his own hands and just- not hear him. Ever again.

" I don't need your help." He felt something poking at his good hand, sliding against his skin, almost threatening to tear right through him. He then felt Derek's hand, pulling it away. Always wanting to fucking take it all away, when sometimes, shit just had to happen, and Stiles had to get through it.

" I **_said_** , I don't need your help. Go home, Derek." Stiles pushed at the hand that he only ever wanted to thread his fingers through and just keep there. It was odd, how long he'd spent trying to get Derek to just hold onto him, and now, he could feel himself suffocating on the air Derek exhaled, choking on the scent of him being so close, too fucking close.

" Stiles, just- just listen to me, okay? Hear me out, and then, if you still want me to go, I will." Stiles would have fought against the tug he felt near his heart, would have yelled loud enough for his throat to ache, for the sound to drown out everything Derek had to say. But Derek's voice did that thing that sounded like a break, and felt like one too, and dammit, Stiles was too worn out to fight him anyway.

So he sat back, resting onto his bum, laying his hands against his knees in fear of something else, breaking through him, or just shattering him all together. Stiles opened his eyes and the crushing realization that he still couldn't see him, almost diminished him to tears. He remained silent, clinging to his fading rage, holding it as an armor on his chest, to keep whatever was inside him, in.

" You know I trust you, Stiles. You have got to know that by now. I trust you with my life, with- with whatever I have left that still means something to me. But you- you could have died. That witch could have used a different spell, or aimed at your heart, or, I don't know, but, we could have lost you. And I'd rather have you be angry at me than not ** _be_** at all."

" We're all going to die, Derek." He meant for it to sound soft, kind and tender, to not hit Derek like the remains of his collapsed family home, or half his sister's body, crashing on top of him, almost killing him too. But Derek gasped, or whined, or choked, pushing past the shreds of glass on the floor, and just touching Stiles, holding him, keeping him there.

" Don't say that. Please don't say that. I **_can't_**."

_I can't think of the concept of death and relate it to you and still want to live, I can't picture your dead body and not feel things collapsing inside of me, not hear the howling of something inside me that would never heal, would never be okay again, I can't lose you, not you too, please God, not you, Stiles, you can never die, I won't let you, I'll keep you safe, I'll always keep you safe, just let me, fucking let me protect you, let me help._

" It's true, though. You and I both know that. Better than anyone. And you can't expect me to live like I'm dying, Derek. Can't expect me to play dead, until it's not just playing anymore. You have to let me **_be_**. You have to let me exist and live and breathe and sometimes not be able to. I can't be any more aware of your fear than I already am. I can't take you any more into consideration. But it feels like you're burying me alive, here. And that's not really fair, is it?" Stiles put his hands over Derek's, that were holding his face, like it was going to disappear. Fade away, and mold into something that Derek would have to lose. He could feel him trembling, could almost smell the salt of his tears that weren't quite out there, but were close. So close.

" I've lost enough for one lifetime, Stiles. More than enough. I'm selfish and I just- I need to keep you around. I need you to be okay." Derek leaned in, like he wanted to kiss him and pour all those desperate pleas right into his mouth, but he just wasn't sure if Stiles wanted it. If Stiles wanted **_him_**.

" You're not selfish, Derek. You're just.. really, really, fucking awesome. And I know you've got my back. I know you'd do anything to spare me, to save me. But I don't always need saving. Sometimes, I need to save you too. Sometimes, I'm terrified as shit, of losing **_you_**. Werewolf healing or not, you're not invincible, Derek. So you better bet that I'll be swinging my bat at whoever comes near you until something gives. Whether I can see it or not. Plus, Deaton said this would wear off, it's temporary anyway, and soon, I'll just-"

He felt lips swallowing his words away, inhaling the breath he could barely let out. He felt hands moving to his neck, pulling at something. He felt a chest, colliding against his own, a heart beating right out of it, almost into his own ribcage. He felt legs holding him to the wall and elbows surrounding him and just- a body shielding him away from the world. Enveloping him like a mother's embrace. Like his father's favorite blanket covering him through the night. Like everything Stiles had imagined safety and home and belonging to feel like.

" Promise me you won't do anything stupid. You'll follow the plan and just, for once, not put your life in danger, Stiles." Derek whispered with the first breath he took in, without it tasting like Stiles. He laughed, hands resting against Derek's heart, marveling upon how it reacted to him.

" Have you met me, Derek? I mean, I could promise you all that, but when it comes down to it, will it really matter?" Derek groaned then, leaning in for another kiss, that was calmer than the last, although, just as desperate.

" Okay. It's okay. I'll keep you safe. I'll protect you." He had his forehead against Stiles', his hands somewhere around his body, unwilling to pull away, to let go. Stiles' eyes were closed again, but there was this smile forming across his features. The scent of something like gratitude, like belief, filling his lungs right up.

" I know you will. I believe you." Stiles nodded and it was enough to almost make Derek believe it too.  

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [B: Blind (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808092) by [AiJamaisFacil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiJamaisFacil/pseuds/AiJamaisFacil)




End file.
